Because Russia Said So
by JustMakeLeftTurns
Summary: Romania wants Moldova to live with him. Moldova listens to Russia too much.


They'd talked about reunification since the 1980s. Well, mostly Romania did. He just wanted his brother back – his poor, defenseless younger brother. He'd already failed as an older brother, though, and therefore it was no surprise when Moldova dodged the question at first. Besides, with Moldova part of the Soviet Union and himself occupied by said union, it wasn't really possible anyway.

But then the Soviet Union fell and Romania saw his chance – saw _their_ chance. Except Moldova continued to be wary of Russia even more than he was. Romania let it be, figuring that they just needed a bit more time.

What he didn't expect was Moldova outright refusing him.

"What? Why not?" Romania asked, hurt and surprised. "It will be great! You and me living together would be fantastic. And I'd get to spend more time with my little brother, yes?"

Moldova, still a child in body but only somewhat in mind, shifted from foot to foot. "It's not like I don't miss you," he said, eyes wide. Romania felt his heart melt. "I just … wanna be on my own right now."

Romania, seeing Moldova's eyes watering, decided to drop the subject. The poor boy had recently been under Russian rule; it was no wonder he wanted to stay away from everyone for a bit. He could understand that. So instead of pleading with the child – no way would he just take him, that would be bad news all around for not only him and Moldova but also their neighbors – Romania lifted the younger nation onto his hip with a grin.

"Just don't forget that your brother is always here to hang out or whatever," he said lightheartedly, tickling the boy. He walked towards the nearest ice cream place, committing the toothy grin and laughter to memory.

Unfortunately, over the next few decades, Romania had little time to see Moldova. Russia constantly watched not only them but the other Eastern European nations as well. Romania feared that spending too much time with Moldova – brothers or not – would only encourage Russia to get involved. The brothers spent a few days together around the time of the annual world meetings, but that was about it. Romania was willing to wait out Russia and was quite able to avoid the man.

It seemed that Moldova did not have the luxury of patience, nor as much independence as he wished. Romania watched as, over the years, Moldova talked more and more with Russia. Romania nearly hexed Russia when he saw the man carry the boy on his shoulders – how dare he touch Moldova. But starting a war would do no one any good. And so he waited – he had tact, unlike certain countries.

It was after one of the meetings that Romania realized the extent to which Russia had influenced Moldova. Not only did Moldova wave goodbye to Russia as if they were friends, but Moldova also spoke Russian – _Russian_ – to Romania. At least, at first, until Romania gently corrected it.

Another one of their days spent together, Romania once again suggested reunification – by now, his thought process was not only to keep his innocent brother with him, but also to keep him away from Russia. This time, Moldova gave an answer that Romania didn't expect, although in hindsight, he really should have.

"I can't live with you because Russia said so," Moldova stated, as if it was normal to listen to such an insane man.

Romania's eyes narrowed, but his smile remained. "Eh, who cares what he says?" He ruffled the boy's hair. "You're my brother, not his."

Moldova's face scrunched up. He moved away from the offending hand. Romania sighed and let his hand drop. Moldova usually laughed when he did that.

"Yeah, well, Russia took care of me for a while," he replied. Romania looked down at him sharply, smile dropping instantly. "And now he's so nice to me. He's like another brother!"

"No!" Romania said harshly. Without thinking, he whipped Moldova around to face him. He got down on one knee to look the now-scared boy in the eye. Seeing this, Romania took a calming breath before speaking, gently, "You mustn't listen to what he says, Luca. Remember how miserable and sad and angry you were when you lived with Russia? Remember how you hid in the cabinet under the kitchen sink when he was drunk? He's not a nice person, brother. Please, please understand that."

Moldova wrenched his arm away from Romania, watery eyes glaring. "No, you're wrong!" he shouted. "He-he's just misunderstood! I didn't get it, back then, but I do now! And-and he's nice and friendly and he's changed and-and you're a big meanie!" Romania could only watch as his brother ran away. His heart sunk to his stomach. He'd just done the opposite of what he'd wanted to.

He didn't directly speak to Moldova for another four years.

Oh, he tried, but Moldova avoided him, ignored him, made a point to be around Russia _all the damn time_. Romania watched him laugh at Russia's words, or sit on the man's shoulders as they spoke – in _Russian_. Romania always turned away or closed his eyes or just plain left the area. That should be _him_.

 _He_ was Moldova's brother.

After years of perseverance, Moldova finally gave in. They went to get ice cream, but the entire situation felt forced, uncomfortable. Moldova spoke Russian – a language Romania himself was not very fluent in but could still understand at least half of what his brother spoke. Moldova also refused any physical contact with him. At least he was still trying to laugh and smile, though. Russia hadn't taken _that_ away.

"So, about me living with you," Moldova said, surprising Romania. "I was thinking. Why don't you live with me?"

Romania chuckled. His poor, innocent brother. "That's not quite how it works."

Moldova pouted. "Why not?"

Romania shifted a bit before shrugging. "It just doesn't."

"But Russia said –"

Romania immediately cut his brother off. "How's your ice cream?"

Nothing more was said on the topic until the next time they hung out. Even when Romania asked the question, Moldova would insist that he lived with the younger. And thus it went for the next three years.

For the first time in decades, Moldova had a sleepover at Romania's house at a time that the world meeting wasn't being held. Romania enjoyed every minute of it, ignoring how distant their relationship had gotten. This was a big step. They might finally get over the past and maybe Moldova would stay. Maybe they could be a family again.

Romania felt ill after dinner and went to bed early, knowing that Moldova would fall asleep before nine, the poor thing. He expected basically passing out once his head hit the pillow – being sick plus the overexcitement would do that.

What he didn't expect was waking up tied to the bedpost.

What he expected the least out of all scenarios was his poor, innocent brother pointing a gun at him.

Romania licked his dry lips, eyes trying to look past the gun and at Moldova. Had he been drugged? By his _brother_? "Luca," his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "What are you _doing_?"

"You want us to be a family, right?" Moldova stated, voice shaking. "Well, since I won't live with you, and you won't willingly live with me, I just have to make you live with me." His hands shook.

Romania noticed. He tested his bonds. Too tight. "This isn't right," he pleaded. He forced himself to level his voice. Moldova was scared, too. He had to pretend to be calm. He could turn this around. He could fix this. "Luca – _you know this isn't right_."

Moldova chewed on his cheek for a moment, eyes tracing the floor. "But … Russia said –"

"Russia is psychotic," Romania returned to begging. "You would shoot your own brother and, what? What would you do? You can't hold me. Think of the consequences – of our people."

"Stop it! Just-just stop it!"

Moldova jumped up onto the bed to better position the gun. Now that he was closer, Romania could see the tears. Moldova's face had that determined look that young children often wore.

"What good will this do?" Romania's voice wavered yet again. Just because he was immortal didn't mean he enjoyed dying. Not to mention becoming a captive of his _younger brother_. True, he could probably escape from his brother in normal circumstances – but Moldova had been spending time with Russia.

Moldova steeled his face in a way a child shouldn't know how to do. In that moment, Romania didn't see his brother. He saw Russia. He'd failed as a brother. Again. A few tears slipped down his cheeks.

"How will this make us a family again?" Romania whispered hoarsely, afraid that if he spoke any louder, he would start full-out crying.

Moldova avoided his eyes. "Because Russia said so."

BANG.


End file.
